[FIC] RED AND ORANGE
for: kuro_tenshii18
prompt: sho/nino; red and orange
notes: no beta, not mine
Back in kindergarten, they were taught that red and yellow would make orange. Nino remembered being amazed about this, but it was a short-lived amazement. He realized that there was no miracle, no mystery, no magic happening in the mixture of two colors. That was just how it is, and nothing else.
If Nino were the one who picked a color, it would be orange. He never really liked yellow; it was too bright and too attention-seeking. It spoke of extremes, and Nino was rarely that. He preferred orange, a shade of yellow tinged with red. It was a pleasant color and though it was attention-seeking as well, the blinding brightness that yellow had was tamed by the dark red, making the color much more pleasing to the eyes. For some reason, Nino ended up with yellow. He didn't care. Maybe he wasn't meant to be an orange.
When they first started out as a group, they didn't take their colors seriously. It was weird having one associated to you randomly, and they expect you to remember it amidst a crowd, bright lights and a stage. Nino always got the red mic by mistake and during rehearsals, he could hear Sho complaining about who it was who always took his mic. Somehow, Nino got used to his color. Red was for Sho, the same way yellow was for him.
--
Ohno left his art materials out. They were on tour, and Nino shared a room with Arashi's leader. The room came with a balcony and while Nino loved to go there and just look at the city lights while smoking a cigarette or maybe playing with his DS, Ohno used the view to inspire him to paint.
Nino took a small tube of paint and smeared some of the contents on the blank paper. He knew Ohno might get angry, but his hands were just itching to try these. Dealing with Ohno would have to wait, Nino thought as he saw that he picked red out--yet again. Against the blank white of the canvas, the bold strip of crimson immediately caught his eye. He remembered Sho, because that was what the color equated to him. This time, Nino picked out the yellow one and proceeded to put some on the canvas until all that can be seen was orange.
He thought that maybe he and Sho suited their colors. On its own, fiery and passionate, bright and loud; but together, they were mellow, soft and happy. It was stupid comparing oneself to a color, Nino knew. He was surely more complex than a mere pigment, but there was some truth behind it anyway.
Nino stood up and went to Sho's room to invite him for a drink.
--end
requesting is still open here. :)
prompt: sho/nino; red and orange
notes: no beta, not mine
Back in kindergarten, they were taught that red and yellow would make orange. Nino remembered being amazed about this, but it was a short-lived amazement. He realized that there was no miracle, no mystery, no magic happening in the mixture of two colors. That was just how it is, and nothing else.
If Nino were the one who picked a color, it would be orange. He never really liked yellow; it was too bright and too attention-seeking. It spoke of extremes, and Nino was rarely that. He preferred orange, a shade of yellow tinged with red. It was a pleasant color and though it was attention-seeking as well, the blinding brightness that yellow had was tamed by the dark red, making the color much more pleasing to the eyes. For some reason, Nino ended up with yellow. He didn't care. Maybe he wasn't meant to be an orange.
When they first started out as a group, they didn't take their colors seriously. It was weird having one associated to you randomly, and they expect you to remember it amidst a crowd, bright lights and a stage. Nino always got the red mic by mistake and during rehearsals, he could hear Sho complaining about who it was who always took his mic. Somehow, Nino got used to his color. Red was for Sho, the same way yellow was for him.
--
Ohno left his art materials out. They were on tour, and Nino shared a room with Arashi's leader. The room came with a balcony and while Nino loved to go there and just look at the city lights while smoking a cigarette or maybe playing with his DS, Ohno used the view to inspire him to paint.
Nino took a small tube of paint and smeared some of the contents on the blank paper. He knew Ohno might get angry, but his hands were just itching to try these. Dealing with Ohno would have to wait, Nino thought as he saw that he picked red out--yet again. Against the blank white of the canvas, the bold strip of crimson immediately caught his eye. He remembered Sho, because that was what the color equated to him. This time, Nino picked out the yellow one and proceeded to put some on the canvas until all that can be seen was orange.
He thought that maybe he and Sho suited their colors. On its own, fiery and passionate, bright and loud; but together, they were mellow, soft and happy. It was stupid comparing oneself to a color, Nino knew. He was surely more complex than a mere pigment, but there was some truth behind it anyway.
Nino stood up and went to Sho's room to invite him for a drink.
--end
requesting is still open here. :)